


happy new years', i'm drunk and in love

by superstarrgirl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, because i like ziall and i hope you guys do too, brotherly friendship because thats my fave kind of friendship, its a ziall fix through and through bby, not really a narbara fic, or a zerrie fic, uhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:24:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstarrgirl/pseuds/superstarrgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall gets a call in the middle of the night on January 1st, 2014, with a very drunk and incredibly lonely Zayn Malik on the other end. What happens afterward can only be described as a very unfortunate yet beautiful turn of events.</p>
<p>{Didn't anyone ever tell you that drunk people are the only people that tell the truth?}</p>
            </blockquote>





	happy new years', i'm drunk and in love

**Author's Note:**

> Written at midnight, probably terrible, really wanted to finish it quite quickly. So. Here it is. I hope it's okay, measures up to the expected standards. Barbara's only mentioned like once and she doesn't really play an important role so. If you're here for her, don't be. But! If you are here for drunken and lonely Zayn calling Niall at 3 in the morning, plow forward darling!

He gets the call at 3am on New Years’ Day. Barbara is asleep next to him, and when his phone rings she groans and rolls away, snorting loudly as she pulls a pillow over her head to block out the noise, kicking his leg. Niall sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes and fumbling for his phone. A glance at the caller ID tells him it’s Zayn, and he can’t help the way his eyebrows furrow.

“Zayn?” He mumbles into the receiver, and is met with a loud shout. 

“NIALL!” Zayn shouts down the phone, there’s a shatter on the other end and loud music pulses through. Niall looks over at the clock on the bedside table. 3:33 in the morning. He flops back against the bed only to have Barbara nail him in the leg with her foot.

“Zayn, mate, it’s 3:30 in the morning. Go to bed.” Barbara continues to kick him, and for someone so small she sure does pack a punch. “What?” He hisses to her finally.

“Go into the hall.” She tells him through the pillow. “I’m trying to sleep.” Fair enough, Barbara drank a lot more than he did. As Niall shoves a sweatshirt over his head, Zayn chatters in his ear.

“It’s the New Year, Nialler! Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating with your _girlfriend_?” The hallway is silent and the door closes with a click behind him as Barbara’s snores ring out to him.

“We did. And now we’re trying to sleep, which is what you should be doing. Where’s Perrie?” Niall rubs a hand across his face and leans against the wall. Maybe Perrie can convince Zayn to get off the goddamn phone, go to bed and leave Niall alone.

“Who knows where Perrie is!” Zayn shouts, and there’s another shatter of glass on pavement, followed by three very loud thumps, and then Zayn’s voice: “Oops.”

“Well find her.” Niall snaps, not in the mood for Zayn and his drunkenness. Because Niall now understands why Zayn is on the phone at 3:30 in the morning. He’s drunk and probably missing his boys – why he didn’t call Liam or Harry, Niall isn’t sure, because they’d be more open to him calling. But.

“I don’t wanna. Wanna talk to you. You’re my best mate, you know that?” Zayn’s words are becoming more and more slurred as seconds pass. Niall wonders how much he’s had to drink.

“Yeah, Zayn, I know that.” A door opens and Liam comes out, on the phone with someone himself. If Niall were to guess, he’d probably say Louis.

“’Course you know that.” Zayn giggles and hiccups. “And I love you?” Niall sighs heavily as Liam whispers calming words to whoever he’s on the phone with, rolling his eyes at Niall exasperatedly. Niall smirks back. He doesn’t envy Liam at all – he’s been on that side of the conversation, often with Harry freaking out and crying, and he’s kind of glad he’s only got to deal with a very drunk Zayn.

“I know, I love you too.” Niall tells Zayn, and when Zayn speaks next, he suddenly sounds very sober.

“But you don’t understand, do you? You don’t understand how much I love you. I love you more than I love Perrie, more than I love Louis or Liam or Harry. I love you more than I love the fans. I love you, I’m in love with you, and you don’t even see it. Don’t even notice me at all because you think everyone looks at you the way I do, and they do look at you, but you’re my whole world, my sunshine and my blue sky and I’ve loved you ever since X-Factor and I probably will always love you.” Zayn cuts his tangent off and –

_Huh?_

“Zayn, I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.” Niall manages shakily, trying to hold his voice steady and failing miserably.

Zayn huffs angrily down the phone. “That’s not the point! The point is I’m in love with you, always have been, and now you’ve got a girlfriend and I’m getting married but I don’t love her half as much as I love you and you don’t even see it and-“ Niall hangs up.

He’s not going to listen to Zayn talk in a drunken state, not having a clue about what he’s saying. He won’t do it, he doesn’t think he can. He tips his head against the wall and takes in three shaky breaths, reminds himself that Zayn was drunk off his ass and didn’t have a clue of what he was saying. Numbly, he hears Liam say to whoever he’s on the phone with, “I’ll call you back,” and then Liam is cupping his chin in his hands and forcing Niall to look at him. 

“You alright?” Liam asks softly, and Niall opens his mouth to answer, tell him he’s fine, tell him that Zayn was drunk or high or a little bit of both and talking nonsense, but when he starts to say something, all that comes out is a strangled sob.

He buries his head in Liam’s shoulder and cries, his whole body trembling from the force of his sobs. Liam strokes his hair and murmurs into his shoulder, telling him it’s alright, that Liam has him, that he’s safe, but from what, Niall isn’t sure.

“He-he told m-me he love-love-loved me. Zayn.” Niall sobs, fingers wrapping around the soft cotton of Liam’s shirt, and they both sink to the ground, Niall almost in Liam’s lap. Liam rocks him back and forth and whispers quiet words, but he can’t seem to stop the tears. Only thing is, he doesn’t know if they’re sad or angry tears, doesn’t really think there’s much of a difference between the two. 

For almost two years, Niall was hopelessly and stupidly in love with Zayn, and tried to show it in the best way he knew. He flirted, teased, showed off what little he had, got closer to Zayn than he had to anyone before, and every time he thought maybe, just _maybe_ , they were getting somewhere, Zayn would shut him down. He’d call Niall his best friend or get up in the middle of a conversation to call Perrie, who Niall liked well enough but. She swooped in and took Zayn with a bat of long eyelashes and a perfectly timed pout, leaving Niall in the dust. And now, all of a sudden, when Niall is finally with a wonderful, beautiful girlfriend who makes him feel the happiest he has in a while, this is when Zayn finally opens his mouth and says something? That’s not good enough, not for Niall.

But. That doesn’t stop the fact that it hurts, that it makes Niall feel further and farther away from Zayn than he ever has.

//

When they see each other in January, neither of them mentions New Years’ Eve or what it entailed. They hug and chatter like nothing’s changed, but Niall can feel unspoken words hanging between them, a silence so deafening it’s all he hears. Zayn feels it too, because during the press conference, he keeps giving Niall furtive glances and quiet touches, his long arm reaching behind Harry’s chair to touch Niall’s shoulder, as though to remind the Irish that he’s there. As if Niall could forget.

Afterward, Louis drags them to a club, and none of them really have the energy or common sense to argue, even though Niall knows he’ll regret it halfway through because Liam will piss off to ring Sophia, Harry and Louis will drop off the face of the planet and Zayn will text Perrie the whole night through. So, most times, Niall’s only option is to get piss-ass drunk, and with Zayn giving him secretive glances and Liam staring at him in sympathy, shots of vodka are looking pretty good.

As expected, Louis and Harry go missing and Liam calls Sophia to talk – what about, Niall isn’t sure – but, surprisingly, Zayn stays at the table while Niall downs two beers, two shots of vodka and maybe some tequila. His vision’s a little blurry, hazy around the edges, and if he’s sure of one thing it’s that Zayn looks really hot.

“Niall.” Zayn says suddenly, slamming his shot glass down on the table. Niall cocks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. “We need to talk.” Still, Niall sits silently, his heart rate speeding up, but he can’t say he hasn’t been expecting this.

Zayn waits a moment for him to respond, and when Niall doesn’t, he plows on. “About that phone call on New Years’. I don’t know how much I said to you or anything, but I’m gonna guess it was really embarrassing, considering the way you’ve been ignoring me. And it was probably really stupid and I was just really, really drunk and feeling a little lonely – at my own party, believe it or not – and I just needed to talk to someone and whatever I said probably wasn’t true so, maybe we could forget it ever happened?”

Niall doesn’t think he’s ever sobered up so quickly because, well. Ouch.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, afraid that if he opens his mouth or looks at Zayn he might throw up or burst into tears. So he sits there in silence, staring down at the now empty shot glass and wishing for a few things: another shot and for the ground to swallow him whole. Zayn sighs above him, mutters, “Or you can ignore me. Whatever.” There’s a scraping of chair legs across the floor and Niall opens his mouth before Zayn can get too far.

“You told me you loved me.”

It’s like someone’s flipped a switch in Zayn. He comes to a standstill with his back facing the table, and Niall finally looks up at Zayn’s silhouette against the club lights, the music pounding in his ears. Zayn spins, agonizingly slow, to face him, eyes blown wide.

“Wh-what?” He stammers out, and if Niall weren’t suddenly taken over by inexpressible rage, he’d almost feel bad for him. But, at that moment, anger burns in his veins as he jumps to his feet, electric blue eyes suddenly stormy. 

“You said you were in love with me. And you know, for a moment I almost believed you. But you were just lonely and if it isn’t true, then.” Niall pushes him aside, heading toward the door. The club feels too small, too many people crowded into one space. The music is too loud, the smell of alcohol and sweat too overpowering. He needs to get out of here, he needs to leave, he needs to get home and rid himself of Zayn Malik forever. 

Outside, in the frosty air, he hangs a left to start the walk home, considering calling a taxi, but he needs the fresh air, needs to just breathe for a moment. He’s halfway down the block when he hears a voice calling out his name, and if it were any other voice he’d turn around, but it’s Zayn and Niall doesn’t really feel like facing him or even talking to him ever again.

“Niall, wait up, wait up!” He’s running – Niall can hear his feet slapping against the ground, flat-footed and quick. No. He will not wait up. He will not wait for Zayn, not anymore. He’s done enough of that as it is. “C’mon, please, I just wanna talk!” 

Oh. Okay.

Niall spins and advances so fast that Zayn has to bring himself to a grinding halt and back up. “You wanna talk?” Niall snarls, eyes flashing dangerously. Zayn gulps, genuinely petrified. It takes a lot to piss Niall off, and Zayn’s pretty sure he’s never seen the blond’s eyes so dark, so turbulent and icy. “You wanna _talk_? Alright, let’s talk. Let’s talk about how for two years I pined for you, tried to play it cool and thought maybe something was gonna happen. Let’s talk about how you would lead me on, tease me, kiss me, all that, and then suddenly shut me out. Let’s talk about you getting a girlfriend and getting _engaged_ without even fucking telling me even though we swore to never keep secrets from each other. Let’s talk about you falling in love and not even thinking about me, the one who’s been with you through thick and thin and who’s pretty goddamn obvious about the way I feel about you. Let’s talk about you calling me at 3 in the fucking morning, drunk off your ass, telling me that you love me when I’m finally happy, with a beautiful girlfriend and I’ve finally convinced myself I’ve moved on. Let’s talk about you standing there and telling me that you were drunk and lonely and those words – that I’ve waited three- _fucking-years_ to hear – didn’t mean a thing. You wanna talk? Let’s talk about that.” His chest is heaving, and Niall’s pretty sure he doesn’t think he’s ever been so worked up and angry in his entire life but, _Jesus_ , Zayn just has that affect.

Zayn’s staring at him with something burning in his eyes that Niall just can’t understand. They must stand like that for a good thirty seconds, just staring at each other, sizing the other up, until Niall can’t take it anymore, and he does the first thing his drunken mind tells him to do.

He kisses Zayn.

He reaches out and catches the collar of Zayn’s shirt in his grip, tugging the other boy closer, smashing their mouths together in a heated kiss. Zayn makes a surprised sound, locking up for a second, but then he responds, opening his mouth to allow Niall in. Zayn backs Niall into a wall, hard, grinding his hips into Niall’s, never breaking the kiss, and – oh. Niall wraps his arms around Zayn’s waist and draws him as close as humanly possible, and Zayn’s hands are everywhere on Niall, and if someone gets a photo of them like this, making out in public, Niall groaning into Zayn’s mouth and Zayn’s hands cupping his ass, there’s going to be hell to pay, but they’re both so drunk and they can’t see straight and the lines between right and wrong are pretty blurry at this point.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you…” Zayn pants into Niall’s neck as he shoves Niall harder into the wall, grinding his hips down, the sensation going straight to Niall’s dick. “That drunk people are the only people that tell the truth.” He catches Niall’s lips again in such a heated kiss that Niall almost melts into the pavement.

“Not really.” Niall mutters, sucking at Zayn’s pulse point hard enough it’ll bruise. Zayn cants his hips up at the feeling, letting a low whine slip past his lips, and suddenly everything comes rushing back to Niall, hits him like a truck.

He wrenches away from Zayn, pushing the taller boy off, causing both of them to stumble. Zayn blinks in surprise, hands going up to press at his swollen lips. Niall’s breathing heavily, leaning against the wall for support, trying to take in deep breaths and tell himself that this is wrong, that he has a girlfriend and Zayn has a fiancée and he’s just had too much to drink, isn’t thinking straight, is letting his feelings get the worst of him. 

The thing is, he’s not even that drunk.

Zayn takes a hesitant step forward, reaching out to touch Niall. “Babe…” Zayn murmurs, eyes warm and inviting, so warm that Niall just wants to dive in, to kiss every curve and edge of Zayn’s face, wants to spend hours memorizing every crevice, every line, every wrinkle and –

No. 

He pushes away from the wall shakily and moves out of reach of Zayn’s smooth hand, ignoring the way Zayn’s face crashes. “No. Don’t.” Niall says, or tries to say. His tongue is a weight in his mouth, uncomfortable and heavy. Zayn once again tries to touch him, but Niall, because he’s nothing if not a coward when it comes to this, turns and runs.

//

It takes three days for Louis to beat down the door of Niall’s apartment.

“Niall fucking Horan I swear to god if you don’t open this goddamn door I will chop it down!” Louis’ been shouting for almost half an hour, alternating between telling Niall he’s a fucking idiot for shutting his best friend out and telling him to please just open the door and let him in all Louis wants to do is talk c’mon love open the door.

But opening the door means having to get off the couch, opening the door means having to leave his warm cocoon of blankets, opening the door means having to face a reality he’d much rather ignore. There’s a moment of silence out the front, and then the sound of a key in a lock, a very faint click and the door is swung open, revealing a very pissed off, tired and slightly manic Louis, holding a key.

“Forgot about the spare key.” Louis mumbles, replacing the key on the doorframe and coming into the apartment. Well. Never was the sharpest knife in the drawer.

“What do you want, Louis?” Niall asks tiredly from the couch, turning the volume down on reruns of FRIENDS. It’s freezing in the apartment, and Louis looks desperately like he wants to turn the thermostat up, but takes one look at the Niall-burrito on the couch and decides against it.

“I want to know what happened. Because Zayn, as we speak, is crying into Liam’s shoulder about how he fucked up and we don’t know _what_ he did but it must have something to do with you because you’re the only thing that gets him this worked up.” Louis huffs, his small frame suddenly filling up more space than Niall remembers. It’s the actor in him – always make yourself bigger than you truly are, to be more commanding and confident on stage.

Louis has Niall’s interest peaked. “Gets him this worked up?” Niall repeats softly, and Louis subconsciously leans back. There’s a heartbeat of silence as Niall tries to decipher Louis’ words, saying them over and over again until it finally hits him: “You knew how he felt!” The way Louis’ eyes scrunch up and he takes a step back is all Niall really needs to know. White-hot anger courses through him, and he rises to his feet, abandoning his blankets in favor of the sub-Arctic conditions of his apartment, trying not to reach out and wrap a hand around Louis’ throat.

“You knew how he felt about me, you knew how I felt about him and you chose to just sit by and watch? After two years of me crying into your lap? Really, Louis? That’s what you did? You let me hurt and be hurt and didn’t say a single _fucking_ thing about it?” Niall’s speaking quietly, almost a whisper but his voice sharp and cutting. To be honest, Louis would have preferred shouting.

“Zayn wasn’t ready yet.” Louis responds, trying to keep his cool. Niall’s eyes flash a murderous color.

“Oh he wasn’t, was he? Well. My fucking mistake, excuse me. Excuse me for Zayn Malik not being ready to face what he feels and instead getting a goddamn fiancée. Excuse me. And excuse me for being pissed the fuck off because my three best mates knew how he felt and still sat on their asses and watched me fall apart. Excuse _me_.” Niall shoves Louis aside roughly, moving down the hallway to his bedroom. But in the doorway he turns to Louis, who’s still standing in the living room in shock, staring at the spot where Niall stood. “I thought you were my best friend.” Niall chokes out, tears leaking from his eyes as he stands there.

He’s pretty sure Louis’ never moved so fast in his entire life. 

Louis grabs Niall and tugs him in, stroking the blond’s hair and whispering softly into his skin, “I am I am I am of course I am I am your best friend you know I am I’m so sorry for lying to you and for hurting you I’m so sorry love I’m so, so, so sorry.” Louis sounds so genuine, no joking or teasing or shade in his tone, and it only makes Niall cry harder, tears bleeding into Louis’ shirt, but neither seem to care. They sit there, huddled on the floor, Louis rocking Niall back and forth like Liam had, and when Niall feels like he can breathe again, he sits up. 

Louis gently wipes away the tears and runs a hand through Niall’s hair, entwining their other hands together. “I’m sorry for not telling you.” He says very quietly, and as angry as Niall was before, he now understands.

He curls into Louis’ neck, breathing his best friend in. “It’s okay.” Niall responds just as softly. Louis gathers him closer and kisses his forehead in the way that the boys have become accustomed to. When they were first put and Louis was the oldest, he hated the fatherly role, found it difficult shoes to fill to be the parent for four younger boys who needed him to be exactly that. It wasn’t until maybe the second tour when Louis really stepped up to the plate and became the protector, checking in on the boys before he went to bed, getting shitfaced if they went to a club but always knowing where his kids were. He’s still as much of a child as he was at 19, but he’s figuring out where he belongs in the band, taking the fatherly position from Liam, Liam handing it over quite willingly.

Niall’s quite glad that Louis is the father in that moment, because Louis doesn’t try to get answers out of you, whereas Liam would. And Niall really doesn’t want to talk or answer questions – he just wants to cry. 

//

The third tour starts and things are…well, they’re bleak between Zayn and Niall.

On stage and in front of fans and cameras, they’re playful and teasing, amicable and best friends, and the other three act like nothing is wrong. But once they’re on the bus or in the hotel, it’s like someone’s flipped a switch and they go back to simply existing in the same space, breathing the same air yet standing on opposite sides of the world.

They’re in Boston, coming in from playing Gillette Stadium when Zayn almost slams the door on Niall’s fingers, and Niall’s reflexes are unbelievably fast, a lucky thing. “Jesus! You could’ve taken my fingers off!” He shouts at Zayn, who freezes up and swivels to face him, looking slightly caught off guard. To be honest, Niall’s caught off guard at how vicious his voice sounded even to his own ears. 

But then Zayn’s eyes darken. “Well, God, maybe you should move your fingers.” Zayn snaps back, and Niall furrows his brow, a half of his mouth lilting.

“C’mon you two, can’t we have some peace?” Harry mumbles, shoving at Niall’s back until Niall stumbles into the bus. The other three pile onboard and flop onto the couch – Zayn’s gone to the back of the bus, muttering something under his breath darkly while Niall just stands in the doorway for a moment, trying to gather a mess of thoughts. They haven’t spoken, really, since the start of the tour. It’s now August. Okay, so Zayn has tried to talk to Niall a few times, and most times Niall has shut him down, but he can’t really be blamed for that. They’ve been perfectly cordial, and Zayn really could have hurt Niall by almost closing the door on his fingers. So why did Zayn get so angry about it?

“Excuse me.” Niall stammers, turning to follow Zayn up the back of the bus. The other three watch him go, and Louis turns from his upside-down position on the couch to look at Liam and Harry, who are pretending to be invested in a game of Mario Kart without the TV actually being on.

“We hear gunshots, we run?” Louis questions.

“Absolutely.” Liam and Harry say in unison.

Zayn’s in his bunk, the curtain drawn and the light off. But he’s not sleeping, because the sound of snoring doesn’t fill the small space, only ragged breathing and fingernails tapping against wood. Hesitantly, Niall clambers into his own bunk, flicks the light on and sits crossed-legged facing Zayn’s bunk. 

“Turn it off.” Zayn groans, trying to pretend he was asleep. But the five of them have lived in each other’s pockets for three years – Niall knows Zayn’s sleep-voice, scratchy like an unused record, and the voice he’s talking sounds weary and drained, but not scratched.

“We need to talk.” Niall responds instead. Zayn sucks in sharply, letting a moment of silence hang between them, and then the curtain is peeled back and he’s peeking out, blinking at Niall. “And it’s not going to wait anymore. I won’t let it. We are talking now.” Niall’s tone is quiet and melodic, resigned and a little nervous.

“Okay…” Zayn says slowly, warily. He doesn’t sit up, simply pulls the curtain back a little more.

“Look, you’re my best friend. I don’t know how I would survive without you. And I feel like without talking to each other and just sitting in stony silence and letting Liam and Lou and Haz carry us on their shoulders, I just feel like I’m losing you, like I’m being forced to let you go. And I don’t wanna do that; I don’t think I could handle losing you. You’re my best mate, you know me better than I probably know myself. You always know exactly what to say when I’m panicking, when I get scared or nervous. You always know how to make me feel better about something. And without that I feel…I feel like I’m drowning. I feel just constantly like I’m fighting to survive. And I don’t wanna do that anymore.” It all comes out in a rush, words pouring from his mouth before he can stop them. 

Zayn’s staring at him in surprise, but then his face softens into something Niall recognizes – something he misses. “Oh, Niall. God. I’ve been so stupid these past six months. I’ve been so blind and idiotic and I just wanted to forget all the feelings I had about you and in the process I ended up hurting you. And I am so sorry, for so many things. But mostly, I’m sorry for hurting you and for letting you down. I’m so fucking sorry.” There are tears leaking out of Zayn’s eyes, but all Niall feels is just eerie calm, a sense of total peace.

He slowly gets off the bunk and moves so he’s standing in front of Zayn, and he raises a hand to cup Zayn’s angular cheek, and before he can fully form a smart thought, he brings their lips together in a kiss, one of Zayn’s hands winding around Niall’s neck. It’s not desperate and needy, this kiss, but slow and heady and beautiful, full of love and tenderness and compassion and it’s absolutely fucking _perfect_ , Niall knows it is.

“Well.” A voice says dryly in the doorway. “’Bout fucking time, you fucknuts.” Niall pulls away from Zayn and turns to look at Louis with an embarrassed smile. Zayn, however, is not having any of it.

“Fuck off, Tomlinson, get your own.” Zayn kisses Niall again; Louis smacks Zayn with a pillow and disappears with a cackle and Niall smiles into the kiss before he can stop himself.

There’s going to be a lot of problems, they both know (namely, Perrie and the engagement and Barbara), but right now, all there is, is two pairs of lips and a lot of time that needs to be made up.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr, please? 
> 
> http://fell-in-love-at-a-coffee-shop.tumblr.com


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